The Chase Begins
by Daleksdoctor
Summary: "Veronica?"


Veronica/Zevran

"Enough!"

A slim, willowy elf dove to the ground, forcing her body away from her enemy's sword, which missed her pale and fragile skin by mere inches. Parrying his counterattack with her own, she slashed at his chest, sweat and blood dripping from her face in small torrents that only angered her further. The elven woman twirled in precise spirals, slashing from every direction in hopes of compelling her foe into a mistake. The adversary was strong, however, and knocked her backwards with a kick that sent her reeling.

"You know what would be nice right now?"

She called out to the open air, her breath coming out in ragged gasps as her lungs cried out for mercy. The darkspawn hurlock sneered at her, his face twisting into a horrifying grimace as he stalked towards her and hacked at her frame. His blade met her own, filling the forest clearing with an ugly and ear-splitting noise. She darted away from his next stab, earning a few seconds of rest before he could reach her again.

"Some assistance! That would be really, really appreciated right now!"

The hurlock took no notice to her words. She grunted with effort as their blades met once more, meeting and parting in a cycle that seemed endless.

Sensing an opening in her opponent's guard, she withdrew her blades from their deadly embrace and side-stepped away from the darkspawn, leaving him open and vulnerable.

"Now!"

At once, the air by her face shimmered with heat, and she momentarily saw the perfect flight of an arrow before it sank itself into the belly of the darkspawn, sending him stumbling backwards. A soul-piercing scream emanated from his throat, but the elven woman took advantage of the moment and closed the distance between them in three quick strides, finally thrusting her blades into his chest. His screams of pain died off, leaving nothing but a soft, gurgling sound before he sank to the ground, lifeless, a pool of blood leaking from his wounds.

Wordlessly, she steadied herself on his body and grabbed hold of her daggers, yanking them out of his body in a single effort.

"Nice timing." The woman bent over, grabbing ahold of her knees and drew in deep, rattling breaths that shook her body. Her delicate limbs were covered in gore, most of it belonging to her enemies, though some of it was her own. "Thank the Creator that I'm not dead.. yet," she mumbled to herself.

Several moments passed with nothing but the sound of her gasping, and when she was done, she brought the jagged blades to her face, narrowing her eyes at the sight of them.

"These better not stain."

The elven woman stood admist a darkened forest clearing; her presence a testament of beauty among the harsh and gnarled agriculture. Her long, crimson hair framed the petite, sharp structure of her pale face, but her wide eyes were tilted down, examining the bloodstained daggers she wielded in each hand.

Carefully, she took the length of each dagger between her fore-finger and thumb, gently wiping away the darkspawn blood using the leather gauntlets that cloaked her hands. Her brow furrowed in concentration, but her eyes remained calm, resonating an aura of maturity that far surpassed her years.

Her voice rang out clear and hard, carrying with it the weight of what sounded like a prestigious authority figure. "Zevran, do you hear anymore coming?"

She spoke to another elf, this one lithe and statuesque. He was quiet, leaning several meters away from her against an elder tree, his exotic and foreign face reflecting the prime example of complacency. At her words he folded his arms, taking in a deep and measured breath before turning his face to hers. "Not at the moment, but surely there is more to come. Those," he gestured to the pile of slain, bloodied darkspawn by their feet, "were merely scouts; due to report back to their superiors about quite some time ago. It won't be long now before another group arrives."

The elf called Zevran leaned away from the tree, exhaling silently before finally running a hand through his pale, silver-toned hair. He playfully tilted his head to the side, a small smile dancing on the edges of his lips as he observed and watched his captain obsess over her weapons like a mother would her injured child.

The woman lifted her head, her bright, emerald eyes meeting the dark, steady gaze of his. A single eyebrow formed a lazy arc upon her forehead, and she sheathed one of her daggers, which now gleamed, spotless. "Can I help you?"

Zevran shook his head, his eyes not daring to falter from hers. They were interesting, he thought to himself. They were so bright - yet cold at the same time, like she's known pain and hardship all her life, just as he had. But, even cold, they were somehow warm as well. How could that possibly be? He was absolutely fascinated by them.

"You know, Veronica... you would have done very well in the Crows, if I do say so myself." His thick, Antivan accent sent chills across her body, but she ignored them and hoped he hadn't noticed her hesitation.

Veronica scoffed at his words, returning her eyes to the blade so she could meticulously begin to groom it. "That's where you're wrong my friend. I'm _far _too willed."

Zevran's eyebrows shot up in agreement, and he laughed to himself as he started in her direction. "I can see that." His steps towards his captain were slow and deliberate, almost predator-like, though there was far too much spring behind the movements themselves.

"Excellent timing, by the way. I could have used the extra hand a few seconds earlier than when I did, but it was spectacular nonetheless."

"I apologize. My hands were full with my own darkspawn, you see." He gently removed the dagger from her hand and started to clean it with his own tunic. Hers was merely smearing darkspawn blood all over it, and she smiled in appreciation.

"So... if you don't mind me asking, why did you bring me here, alone?" Zevran spoke to the blade, his square jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

Veronica shuffled over to a nearby tree, running her smooth hand over its rough exterior. She marveled at its body, harsh and thick as it may have been. To her, there was little more beautiful than nature; of course that might have just been a prejudice opinion, one nutured and instilled within her from the day she was born among the Dalish.

"I brought you here to test you."

Zevran eyes narrowed further, yet they remained playful; purposely still turned away from hers.

"Test me? Why is this so? And if so, have I passed?" He strolled over to her delicate frame once again, meeting her gaze when he offered her back the unblemished blade.

"I wanted to make sure I could trust you. You did try to kill me, you know." She said this quietly, noticing how he held the sharp end towards himself and not her - a move that struck her unexpectedly. If his prior actions hadn't convinced her, surely now he was trustworthy, considering he was comfortable leaving himself vulnerable to her.

"I know. And I'm sorry. If I had known that you would be this radiant, I would have rather perished myself than strike one blow against you," he noticed the surprise register upon her features. To him, he'd never seen such wide eyes that could compare with hers, nor did he desire to. They were open, daring, and unafraid - though rather cautious too. Her cheeks soon flushed pink, and her brow furrowed as she realized he was staring at her. She was absolutely breathtaking to him.

"Can... you trust me?" He peered into her face, realizing that a number of pale colored freckles covered the surface of her nose and cheeks. He thought that they made her look innocent somehow, though he knew that she was far from the very thought. She might have taken more lives in a span of a month than he had his entire career as an assassin.

Veronica froze, caught off guard by how near her elven companion now was to her. Without even realizing it, he had advanced so close that she could feel his breath upon her face; cool, light, and smelling faintly of mint. His eyes remained questioning, their amber contents swirling with uncontainable thoughts and emotions. If she could have moved away from him, she wasn't sure that she would have, or even if she would want to.

"Yes. I... trust you." Her voice came as a whisper, reduced by a considerable amount due to the massive amounts of adrenaline that flooded her veins. The elf in front of her was bringing about all kinds of strange reactions from her! What was it about him? With him standing so close she could barely even form a coherent thought, nevermind a complete sentence. He seemed to enjoy the affect he had upon her too - she could see the way his eyes sparkled everytime she looked at him.

"Good. I want you to trust me. You _can_ trust me, you know." His hand rose to her face, gingerly sweeping away a curl that had strayed from her hair. Zevran let his fingertips glide over her cheekbone, the bone there protruding at a sharp and perfect angle that seemed to pink underneath his touch. He felt her breathing quicken underneath his body, and he slowly leaned into her, his hand now caressing her cheek as he went to press his mouth against hers.

Just as their lips touched, however, he was suddenly aware of the dagger between them; the same which he realized she had never yet sheathed. Zevran gasped, shocked that he been caught up in the moment, but more so at the thought that she, despite her obvious and physical reactions to him, had turned the tables on _him_, who was clearly an expect at wooing and taking whoever he pleased.

Gathering his thoughts once more, he felt the blade poke against the leather guarding his ribs, almost teasingly, so that he drew back in alarm, his body automatically tensing like steel wire.

"Veronica?"

Her teeth flashed white against her coral lips, full and turned up at the corners.

"You, my dear, are only making the chase all the more appealing to me." He stepped closely to her once again; his tongue pressed against his cheek as he regarded her with a brand new sense of appreciation. After a moment of deliberation, however, she tucked the dagger underneath her belt, causing the same, joyful sparkle to come alive within his immense and hazel-painted eyes. He leaned forward, cheerfully pulling her close; this time grabbing ahold of her hands with his own. She didn't fight or try to resist, not even when their noses touched, although suddenly, she averted his mouth and skillfully moved her lips to his ear. Veronica freed her hands from their hold and indifferently pulled his head nearer, so that his ear, pointed and smooth, lay not even an inch away from her mouth. He forced himself not to shudder at her advance.

"I may be able to trust you, oh Zevran, but what makes you think you can trust me?"

So nonchalantly that he didn't notice, she slipped from his grasp and lithely flitted away, back towards a narrow path that led to the direction of their camp. He stood there, frozen, a strange feeling brewing within him that made him want to run after her. Something told Zevran that she was unlike any other, and that she wouldn't be easy to claim. He watched her move with grace far more superior than any dancer alive, until finally, she turned back to look at him, her green eyes narrowed and speculating.

She could hear him bellow out fits of laughter behind her, so loud and strong that it caused her to smile in response.

_This is going to be fun_, she thought.


End file.
